Two hours passed. The sun was becoming more severe. The earth was being scorched. Everyone was staring at the sky but there was no sign of a single cloud.4
The entire city had converged to witness this sight. There was tumult in everyone’s hearts. Tears streamed from the eyes of the people. Women were pleading to God in extreme distress. Heart-wrenching cries echoed in the palace, filling every heart with foreboding.
Although it was three in the afternoon, the heat did not let up. The eyes of Raja Prithvi Singh had dilated, his forehead had shrunk. The effort to keep control over his body and his wits about himself took its toll on him and his delicate lips closed like petals. It seemed as if his blood had run dry; he had no life. It was only his despairing fortitude that helped him stand erect on his feet. The people had a feeling that he might fall at any time. Many believed that what stood in front of them was not the king but just his lifeless body. The heat was so intense that it was even difficult to stay indoors and bear it—the vultures would leave their eggs and fly away, the insects would crawl out of the land and die, it was impossible for any living being to stand even for a moment. Everyone was wondering how the king, accustomed to royal comforts, was standing in the blazing heat.
Suddenly, the sound of ‘Long live the king!’ rent the air, the earth quivered, the sky moved, and it seemed as if a massive earthquake had come or two mountains had clashed. Thousands of people started rejoicing and celebrating. There was a kind of commotion in the huge crowd and many fingers pointed towards the east. A small cloud was seen on the horizon as if a lamp was flickering in the dismal atmosphere. Cannons were shot from the fort, and women started singing songs of happiness. Queens started donating alms to the poor and the needy at the royal gates. But the people were in a state of shock. The first waves of pleasure had numbed them. Controlling their emotions, they were looking at that small cloud with fear and anticipation. In a moment, it started spreading through the sky like smoke from the cannonballs. The winds were blowing. There was thunder and lightning. But these sounds seemed more melodious than the hymns being sung in praise of God. People had been restless to hear these sounds for many days. The sun was descending towards the west in great haste. It seemed as if he was scared and, looking at the army of clouds, was trying to save his own life. In a moment, it hid behind the clouds. The world was engulfed in darkness. But this darkness was a symbol of hope, of God’s creation.
The clouds thundered again. Drops of rain began to fall. With dedication and love, the people ran towards the king and fell at his feet. The king was still standing straight. His blackened face was being washed by the raindrops and his face resembled the moon coming out through the clouds. There was a spiritual glow on his face and his eyes had a divine spark. He had sworn that his blackened face would only be washed in the rain, and it had happened exactly as he wished. This was because there was fortitude as well as the belief of divine intervention and God’s help. Before this day, the country had never witnessed such happiness, such relief, and such peace.
Translated from the Hindi by Saba Mahmood Bashir and M. Asaduddin
BanterWife
I really am very unfortunate, otherwise would I have to witness such disgusting scenes every day? Not only do I have to see them, what is worse is they have become part of my everyday life. My father is a highly esteemed Brahmin whose decisions in all serious religious matters and beliefs are considered infallible. In my home, we wouldn’t put even a drop of water in our mouths before taking a bath or before our prayers. Once, I had high fever and had to take my medicine without a bath, which I regretted for months. The dhobi was never allowed to even set foot in our house. And the chamarin was not permitted to even sit in the passageway. And I simply detested playing with the sons of weavers. But here, it seems I have arrived in a world wholly corrupt. My husband is a very kind and capable man. My father was impressed by his qualities and had me married to him. How would he know that these people were simply godless? Forget sandhya and prayers, people here don’t even bathe regularly. Muslims and Christians walk in and out of the sitting room at
